


Stiles Stilinski's Guide to Effective Communication

by Harlanhardway (Target44)



Series: Stiles Stilinski's Baadasssss Song [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bearded Stiles Stilinski, Canon Compliant if Lydia and Stiles break up freshman year of college, Crack, Derek Hale appreciation, Derek Hale has a fantastic ass, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, POV Stiles, Post-Season/Series 06, Stiles Has Panic Attacks, Stiles Stilinski Is Bad at Feelings, Stiles Stilinski is a Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 20:51:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15324051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Target44/pseuds/Harlanhardway
Summary: "No offense, dude, but: listen to yourself.  You haven't had sex.  You only have five photos of the guy, none of which you are in.  You haven't told your dad, even though they know each other, and now you're saying he's buddies with your best friend?  Are you sure you're dating?"Stiles is having a bad month and does not appreciate being made to question his TOTALLY NOT MADE UP relationship with Derek.  Long distance is hard, communicating sucks and Stiles hates to admit that Derek can sometimes be the more emotionally literate of the two of them.





	Stiles Stilinski's Guide to Effective Communication

"Wait, you haven't had sex yet?"  Craig looked over at Stiles in shock.  "How long have you been with this guy?"  
  
Stiles looked out the passenger-side window tiredly, not particularly interested in having this conversation.  "Keep your eyes on the road, Craig."  
  
Normally he liked Craig, they were friends, both from California and both in the pre-FBI program at George Washington University.  Helping him drive his car home, cross-country from D.C., had seemed like both a fun way to cap off the end of his junior year and a good strategy for decompressing after SERE training.  But at this point Stiles just wanted the road trip to be over.  
  
"I don't know, nine months?  It's been mostly long distance so."  He shrugged.  "You know."  
  
"Yeah, but it's not like you never see him.  I mean, you were home for a whole, what, three weeks over Christmas?  Or are you one of those people who doesn't think it counts unless it's 'real sex'?"  The scare quotes were made obvious by both his tone and expression.  
  
"No, we just haven't done it yet, okay?  For _reasons_.  It's not a thing unless you make a thing out of it."  
  
"Yeah, but Dude, nine months?  That's not taking it slow, that's leaving room for gay Jesus.  Does he have, like, a medical condition or something?"  
  
"No, it just..."  He waved his hands in frustration, he did not want to explain himself.  "We got together at the end of summer and first we were waiting, and then over Christmas it was weird and pressure-y, and then I didn't come home for Spring Break and now--"  Stiles was interrupted by his cell phone going off, vibrating on the center consul and lighting up with Derek's face.  
  
Stiles cracked a smile at the sight of it.  He was proud of that picture.  It had been taken the previous summer when they'd gotten the old crew together for a BBQ.  Derek looked good in sunglasses and a short-sleeved crew neck.  He'd been laughing and talking to Chris Argent and Stiles had snapped a photo from across the yard.  He looked happy.  
  
Unfortunately, the picture was also grainy and slightly out of focus, taken from way too far away and at maximum zoom.  Derek had clearly not been aware he was being photographed, which had been kind of the point since Stiles had wanted one where he was smiling, but it also kind of made Stiles look like a creepy stalker, now that he thought about it.  
  
He could feel Craig judging him as he picked up his phone and swiped to answer.  "Hey, Derek, what's up?"  
  
_"Just calling to give you fair warning."_  
  
"Oh yeah?  You gonna sweep me off my feet as soon as I step over the county line?"  
  
_"More like: if you don't want Scott to throw you a welcome home party tonight, I would advise you to send him a text sometime in the next five minutes."_  
  
"Seriously?"  Stiles sighed and slumped back in his seat.  His back was cramped from days of sitting in a car and sleeping on lumpy motel mattresses.  Or not sleeping, as it were.  
  
The nightmares had been bad recently.  He'd thought SERE training would be no big deal for him, since he already had plenty of experience **S** urvive, **E** vade, **R** esist and **E** scape-ing hostile situations and he'd been only sort-of right.  Slipping back into survival mode had been as easy as stepping into a warm bath.  He'd done well, commendably well, during training.  Then he'd gone home and almost had a panic attack getting into the shower.  There were reasons he didn't take baths anymore, not since the nogitsune.  
  
He rubbed at his forehead.  "We've been on the road all week.  All I want tonight is to see my dad, take a shower and maybe watch some baseball highlights or something."  
  
_"I figured as much."_  
  
"Why does he want to do it tonight?"  
  
_"It's just Scott being Scott.  You know how he freaks out.  Tell him you'd rather push it back to Saturday, it won't be a problem.  More people will be able to come then anyways."_  
  
"Yeah, thanks for giving me a heads up.  I'll text you when I get into town.  We'll probably get in around dinner time.  We're only maybe four hours out, but my friend Craig's never been this far north and we were thinking of making some stops."  
  
_"You having dinner with the Sheriff?"_  
  
"Yep, gotta make sure the old man eats his veggies."  
  
_"Alright, well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then.  Let me know when you get in."_  
  
"Will do."  
  
_"Bye."_  
  
"Bye."  Stiles hung up and put his phone down.  
  
He could feel Craig watching him out of the corner of his eye and tried to ignore it, scratching at the beard he'd been growing since the beginning of finals.  He'd meant to shave it off after getting back from training, but never gotten around to it and, after almost a week on the road and looking at himself in all manner of unflattering motel and truck-stop bathroom mirrors and still not quite being able to summon the motivation to get rid of it, he was starting to wonder if there was maybe more to his general irritability and lethargy than just tiredness and if it might actually be a bit of a depression beard.  
  
"What?"  He asked after the third time he caught Craig glancing over at him under the guise of checking his side-view mirror.  
  
"Just... the boyfriend's not coming to your dad's for dinner?"  
  
"No."  Stiles frowned, crossing his arms and turning towards the window again.  "It would be weird.  They know each other, but dad doesn't know we're dating."  
  
There was a pregnant pause as Craig sped up to pass the car in front of them.  Back in the right lane, he set cruise control again and glanced over at Stiles.  "Are you not out to your dad or something?"  
  
"No, we had the whole bi-discussion way back in high school.  I mean, it's never really come up until now, but he's cool."  
  
"So...?"  
  
Stiles could feel Craig searching for some sort of a reasonable explanation for why he hadn't told his dad about his boyfriend of nine months and there just wasn't one.  It just hadn't come up.  It hadn't come up and hadn't come up and Stiles hadn't volunteered it and now it was weird.  Stiles groaned and buried his head in his hands.  "Look, they know each other, okay?  And they live in the same town and I'm way across the country so it's weird.  What was I supposed to do?  Call up my dad and be like, 'hey, you know Derek?  That guy I used to hang out with in high school that you arrested for murder a couple times?  We're dating now, but don't make a thing out of it.  K' cool, thanx.'"  
  
"Well, yeah, I mean...  What, what?"  Craig did a double take at Stiles and the car swerved on to the rumble strip for a second before he corse-corrected.  
  
"Yeah, it's a long story and he was cleared of the charges, but--"  
  
"Oh, I know about the murder thing."  Craig interrupted, waving Stiles off when he turned to stare at him in disbelief.  "What?  I got bored and looked him up, it's not like you've never run an illegal background check on some random acquaintance of yours before.  But, no, the real issue here is: high school?  How long have you known this guy?  I thought you met at the gym or something."  
  
"Ha."  Stiles laughed dryly.  "No, we're known each other for ages.  Something like six years, now, I guess.  I used to hate him so much, but then he and my best friend started hanging out and," Stiles shrugged, "I dunno, last summer we just," he gestured vaguely, "got together."  
  
Craig raised a skeptical eyebrow.  "Are you _sure?"_  
  
"What do you mean, 'am I _sure'?"_  
  
"I mean, Stiles, dude.  _Are you sure_ you guys are dating?"  
  
Stiles twisted all the way around in his seat to face Craig.  "Run that one by me again."  
  
"No offense, dude, but: listen to yourself.  You haven't had sex.  You only have five photos of the guy, none of which you are in.  You haven't told your dad, even though they know each other, and now you're saying he's buddies with your best friend?  Are you sure you're dating?"  
  
"As opposed to what, exactly?"  
  
"As opposed, I don't know, him wanting to let you down easy, trying to not to ruin the friendship.  Whatever."  
  
Stile looked hard at Craig for one long second, then flopped over in his seat and went back to staring out the window.  "Go fuck yourself, Craig."  
  
"Hey, I'm not trying to be a dick here.  I know you like him.  I'm just saying: I think you guys need to talk or something because that shit just does not add up."  
  
Stiles didn't respond, instead picking his phone back up to text Scott that he absolutely did not feel even a little bit like partying that night.  
  
~~~~~  
  
They ended up driving straight through to Beacon Hills.  Craig maintained that he was in a hurry to get home and wanted to try to power through to Southern Cal a day early.  Stiles didn't argue with him.  What little moral they'd been hanging onto through Stiles' general malaise had been effectively killed by their conversation about Derek and neither of them where in any particular mood to sight-see.  
  
They rolled into Beacon Hills around one o'clock in the afternoon and Stiles fired off a couple texts announcing his safe return, making plans for dinner with his dad and promising to stop by Scott's the next day for breakfast.  
  
He paused over Derek's number.  
  
Derek lived on the east side of town.  They weren't really that far away, not even five minutes.  He watched the exit signs approaching.  
  
"Hey, take the turn-off for Jefferson Ave East."  
  
He typed out a message and hit send.  
  
**To DAT ASSSSS:** got in a little earlier than planned  
  
Stiles contemplated his cell phone while he waited for a reply.  Derek was totally not just humoring him.  Derek had gone on actual real-life dates with him.  Derek had cooked for him, they'd gone out in public together.  They _Skyped_.  Derek had even seen the name Stiles had saved his number under and been fine with it.  That wasn't the kind of thing Derek allowed from just _anybody._  
  
**From DAT ASSSSS:** you're here?  
  
Stiles looked up to watch the street signs.  
  
"Take a right on Van Buren, it'll be a couple blocks down on the left.  Yeah, turn here."  Stiles directed Craig through the warehouse district.  
  
Five minutes later they were parked in front of Derek's building.  Stiles got out and went up to the door to try the buzzer: nothing.  It had been broken for ages, though, so that wasn't altogether surprising.  
  
He pulled out his phone again.  
  
**To DAT ASSSSS:** look out your window  
  
He waited a few seconds: no response.  Nothing moved in the whole building, it almost looked abandoned.  The front entrance sported a couple new pieces of graffiti and one of the windows on the first floor was boarded up.  Sometimes Stiles wondered if Derek actually wanted his property values to go down, for tax reasons or something.  
  
He sent another text.  
  
**To DAT ASSSSS:** Open up, it's the FBI  
  
Still no response.  
  
This had been a bad idea.  Derek probably wasn't even home.  He didn't have any reason to be waiting there, it wasn't like Stiles had warned him he was coming, or even vaguely intimated that he might be coming.  He shouldn't have just shown up, especially in the mood he was in.  Derek was just out somewhere.  He was allowed to have a life, and to not answer his phone for ten minutes.  Stiles would just get back in the car, and they would go to his dad's place like originally--  
  
The front door slammed open and Derek came barrelling out, practically at a sprint, right up to Stiles and into his personal space, not stopping until Stiles was pressed up against the side of his friend's shitty old Subaru, the only thing stopping him from hitting the back of his head against the roof rack being Derek's hand in his hair and the only thing keeping him from making some kind of a startled, embarrassing squawk, being Derek's tongue, halfway down his throat.  
  
Stiles gave himself about half a second to be surprised, then got with the program, because: fuck Craig.  Derek was big and broad, the epitome of tall dark and handsome, a werewolf with a sexy five-o'clock shadow and a dark past who killed and fucked and didn't call anybody back.  He was the exact kind of bad-boy stereotype that the brothers Grimm were both literally and figuratively thinking about when they wrote "Little Red Riding Hood."  Stiles hadn't even really expected it to work out between them.  Except that it had.  It did.  It really fucking did and fuck Craig for making him doubt that.  
  
Because Derek was all of those things and also none of those things.  Derek moisturized and used an embarrassing number of hair products.  He rarely gave himself a close shave because it irritated his skin.  A _werewolf_ with sensitive skin: what an absolute doofus.  He rarely gave out his phone number, not because he never called people back, but because he _obsessively_ called people back.  It was almost a problem.  Stiles once caught him calling back a _telemarketer_.  (On accident, but still.)  
  
He enjoyed long runs at unpleasantly early hours of the morning, played fantasy baseball in his underwear and avoided home improvement projects to the point where he would rather move the location of his bed in accordance with the season and accompanying angle of the sun, rather than buy and hang curtains.  He was also hot enough it had to be measured in Kelvin and was currently kissing Stiles like it was the only thing keeping him alive.  
  
Kissing was maybe not the right word.  It felt more like Derek was trying to suck Stiles' soul out through is mouth.  Derek was pushing him up against the side of the car and pulling him closer at the same time, one hand in his hair and the other on his hip.  His thumb dipped under the waistband of Stiles' pants and then traced back up, under his shirt, so that he was feeling up the bare skin of Stiles’ side.  Any second thoughts Stiles might have been having about what constituted appropriate levels of PDA dropped right out of the give-a-shit cortex of his brain, along with the majority of all other rational thought.  Derek was fucking beautiful and Stiles had missed him.  
  
He grabbed a double-handful of Derek's fantastic ass and reeled him all the way in.  Jesus Christ, he had missed that ass.  
  
Fuck what anyone else thought.  So they hadn't had sex yet?  Making out was awesome and Derek knew where Stiles stood on the subject.  (That being: yes, please.)  They were just taking it slow.  Stiles could wait.  He was basically ambidextrous anyways and had plenty of experience taking care of business on his own, so it wasn't like he was libal to get a stress injury or anything.  
  
God, Derek had a great ass.  It was just so perfectly round and firm, with just the right amount of give.  Just thinking about it made Stiles' toes tingle, much less touching it.  Touching it was... was... was becoming something of a problem.  He wasn't quite hard yet, but it was a bit of a near thing at this point and they had an audience.  
  
Derek slowly pulled back and Stiles had to stop himself from following him with his mouth.  Who cared about propriety these days anyways?  Derek was disheveled and kiss-drunk and smiley and Stiles wanted it on a postcard.  He wanted a thousand postcards, so he could send out a mass-mailing to everyone he'd ever met, just to gloat, and fuck the internet because some things were too good to share on social media and Derek was one of them.  
  
"Is this how you always greet visitors from the FBI, or am I special?"  He slurred.  
  
Derek smiled as he stepped back to a more reasonable distance.  "It's a new strategy."  
  
"Fraternizing with the enemy?"  
  
"Maybe I'm switching sides."  
  
Stiles wiggled his eyebrows.  "I'm a big fan of switching."  
  
Derek's grin got wider and, God, it wasn't fucking fair because now Stiles was blushing and he was the who had made the joke in the first place.  
  
Craig, who had been waiting, minding his own business by the tailgate, cleared his throat.  "Umm... Stiles?"  
  
Derek startled.  He must have been so focused on Stiles that he had forgotten someone else was standing there because his shoulders immediately went up and his head swiveled around so fast, Stiles didn't even have time to think.  Derek's eyes were already flashing blue as he turned and Stiles wiped his hand out on instinct to cover them.  
  
In retrospect, blinding a spooked, defensive werewolf with well-documented PTSD and anger issues was maybe not the smartest move.  Glowing blue eyes would probably have been easier to explain away than a ripped off arm.  
  
Thankfully, Derek didn't rip off Stiles' arm.  He didn't do much of anything, in fact.  He froze, his whole body tense and ready to lash out, but he made no move to do so.  He just stood there, letting Stiles cover his eyes, in the presence of a complete stranger.  It made Stiles go weak in the knees and all the way hard with a rapidity that was probably a little messed up.  
  
Collecting himself and deciding to put off on examining why blind-folding his boyfriend was a massive fucking turn-on for him, Stiles leaned over to kiss Derek lightly on the lips.  He released him, uncovering his eyes, and then turned to Craig to make introductions.  
  
"Craig, this is Derek, the super hot werewolf boyfriend I was telling you about.  Derek, this is Craig, my kinda dorky, but mostly normal human friend from college."  
  
Craig eyed Derek critically for a second, clearly skeptical, then reached out to shake Derek's hand.  "Werewolf, huh?  Howled at any full moons lately?"  
  
Derek rolled his eyes, shaking Craig's hand.  "I try not to, it wakes the neighbors."  
  
Craig did not know about the existence of werewolves, so far as Stiles was aware.  He just thought Stiles made really weird jokes, which was both true and made the whole thing that much more funny, in Stiles' opinion.  
  
Stiles grinned.  "I'd howl at Derek's full moon any day."  
  
Derek and Craig both groaned, sharing a deeply put-upon look.  
  
"That was terrible."  
  
Derek nodded at Craig in agreement, then gestured towards the front of his apartment building.  "Do you want to come up?  I have a couch and probably some beer in the fridge."  
  
"Naw, thanks, I'm good.  Just dropping off."  Craig quickly waved the offer down and started unloading Stiles' bags out of the back.  "I wanna get as far south as I can before rush hour hits, you know?"  
  
"Yeah, I've made the drive from New York a few times.  At some point the novelty of being on the road wears off and you just want to get there."  Derek picked up Stiles' oversized duffle bag, throwing it over his shoulder.  "It was nice to meet you, Craig."  He dug out his keyring and handed it to Stiles.  "I'll let you say goodbye to your friend, come up whenever you're ready."  
  
He gave Stiles a quick, slightly wolfy neck-cheek-hair nuzzle, kissed him on the curve of his ear, then picked the rest of Stiles' baggage up off the curb and went inside, kicking the door closed behind him.  
  
Stiles stared after him.  
  
"Well." Craig cleared his throat.  
  
Stiles shook himself out of his daze.  He could already feel his elation at seeing Derek again rapidly draining away.  It was like being on a rollercoaster.  
  
Craig scratched at his hairline.  His sandy blond hair was gelled forward into the same semi-douchey hairstyle Stiles used to have when he first went off to college.  It was one of the main reasons Stiles had initially started letting his hair grow longer.  Having the same hairstyle as somebody he hung out with all the time was a little too dude-bro even for him.  
  
"So..." Craig started, "I think we passed a grocery store on the way here, if you, like, need to go grab a few things real quick or something."  
  
Stiles gave him a confused look.  "No, it's cool.  Thanks though.  You sure you're good to keep driving?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good, no problem."  Craig continued to scratch at his head.  "Hey, about what I said earlier...  First of all: your boyfriend is smoking hot."  
  
Stiles grinned.  He was aware.  
  
"Second of all," Craig went on, "that thing about you guys not having sex?  Yeah, I feel like you should definitely not go up there without, like, a year's supply of condoms.  I have some I can donate to the cause, but we can definitely make a run to the store if you need, like, other stuff or whatever.  I guarantee you he will not mind the wait."  
  
"Oh.  Yeah."  Stiles' grin faltered.  "'Other stuff.'"  His stomach flipped.  Based on that welcome, he and Derek were probably, maybe, definitely, most likely going to have sex now.  Gay man sex.  Which Stiles knew about.  Had seen a lot of porn of.  Was totally ready for.  
  
His stomach flipped again.  "Condoms.  Yeah, condoms would be good."  
  
"I mean, he's probably go it covered, but you did show up kinda early and I'm just saying: better to be prepared."  Craig dug around in one of his bags for a while before emerging, triumphant, with an unopened box of condoms, still in the cellophane.  He pressed it into Stiles' hand.  
  
Stiles stared down at the box, blinking, pretending to look it over.  It could have been a box of earl grey tea for all he was paying attention.  He should definitely be focusing better.  Sexual health was important; he knew to take that shit seriously.  But, Jesus Christ, Derek was a _werewolf_ , had been an _Alpha_ werewolf, was built like a fucking _brick shithouse_ and they were going to have _sex_.  
  
This should not have come as a surprise.  Hell, Stiles had been the one to bring up switching in the first place.  Which, he definitely wasn't _opposed_ to by any means but, holy shit.  He had not thought this through.  
  
He should have stuck to the original plan and not come by early.  Then he wouldn't be standing here, outside Derek's building, smelling like nervous sweat and gas-station pizza-rolls with a month-old depression beard and a very confused hard-on, staring at a box of condoms while contemplating the structural integrity of his asshole.  Jesus Christ.  
  
"And lastly..."  Stiles almost jumped out of his own skin when Craig put a hand on his shoulder, his face full of sincerity.  "All joking aside, Stiles, fuck what I said earlier, I was just being an asshole.  Don't do it if you don't want to.  I don't care how long you've been dating and fuck that guy if he makes you think you owe him anything. Or... you know, _don't_ fuck that guy, as it were."  
  
Stiles stared at his friend for a second in surprise, then let out a bark of nervous laughter that quickly turned genuine as it ate away at his panic.  Where did he keep finding these complete cornballs?  
  
He shook his head, smiling as he leaned in for a one-armed hug, clapping Craig on the back before letting him go.  "It's cool, dude.  You absolutely do not have to worry about that.  I've just been in a weird mood all week, you know how it is."  
  
"Yeah, I get that.  I'm just sayin'."  
  
"Thanks, I appreciate it.  But trust me, I'm good.  I've got this."  
  
Stiles did have this.  This was _Derek_.  Derek would never push for something Stiles didn't want to give and even if for some reason he tried, Stiles _lived_ for telling Derek to shove his stupid ideas up his own ass.  
  
Popping open the cellophane wrapper, Stiles opened the box of condoms and stuck a string of them in his back pocket before handing the box back to Craig.  Who knew if werewolves even got STIs, but if Derek wanted his dick anywhere near Stiles without a condom on, they were gonna have to talk about it.  And if he wanted to do anything that required lube, they were _definitely_ gonna have to talk about it.  
  
He was feeling better about the whole situation already.  
  
"Alright, well, have fun then."  Craig gave him a dorky little salute before climbing back into the driver's seat of his car.  "I still think you should talk to him, though.  I mean, it's not like talking about your feelings could possibly make you even more gay."  
  
Stiles laughed and flipped him off.  "I'm proudly bisexual thank you very much and talking has never been problem for me."  
  
"I'm telling you Stiles, as an emotionally repressed straight man, who comes from a long line of emotionally repressed straight men: open communication is a whole new ballgame."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind."  
  
"Guaranteed not to shrink your dick or change your sexuality."  
  
"Thank you, Craig, really.  You're advice is without parallel."  Stiles pointedly pushed the car door closed and Craig laughed as he started the engine.  
  
"Give it a try, Stiles!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, now get out of here so I can go bang my boyfriend."  
  
"Be safe!"  Craig shouted, waving out the window as he drove off.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Derek was changing his shirt when Stiles let himself into the loft.  Faced away from the door, it gave Stiles a full view of his back, in all its naked glory, complete with the triskele tattoo that Stiles remembered thinking was kind of stupid the first time he'd seen it.  Kind of stupid and stupidly-hot.  
  
Derek turned around at the sound of Stiles siding the door closed behind him and throwing the bolt.  He had a very intense stare.  Even before knowing Derek was a werewolf, Stiles had been intimidated by that stare.  Derek's dark hair, with his heavy eyebrows and a perpetual five-o'clock shadow made his skin look pale in low light and his eyes unnaturally bright.  He was big, wide, not just across the shoulders, but everywhere.  Thick.  But also graceful.  He didn't so much walk towards the entranceway as slowly lope, his muscles shifting smoothly under his skin as he pulled a clean shirt down over his chest.  
  
Sometimes Stiles got so caught up in teasing and poking fun at Derek, he forgot how much of an apex predator he really was.  
  
Derek stalked closer and Stiles felt his shoulders square up defensively.  His fight-or-flight instincts were kicking in and he had to concentrate on keeping his breathing even and stopping his hands from clenching into fists at his sides.  Some people liked a little danger in their sex life.  Stiles was not one of those people.  
  
Which was why he was with Derek.  Because Derek wasn't dangerous.  Derek was a complete goober.  Derek jumped like a startled cat when Stiles smacked his ass.  Derek rolled his eyes at Stiles' bad jokes.  Derek got drunk on Four Loko and ate cheetos that he pretended he didn't like and looked damn good doing it.  
  
Stiles kept this firmly in mind as he struggled not to fidget.  "Hey, remember when we first met and you were basically allergic to shirts?"  
  
"I have never been allergic to shirts."  
  
"Dude, you ran around naked so often, I started selling tickets."  
  
Derek snorted and rolled his eyes.  "If I remember correctly, and I do, you were the one telling me to take my shirt off so that your friend Danny could get an eye-full.  Which I did not appreciate, by the way."  
  
Stiles' smile wavered.  He tried to concentrate on not smelling afraid.  Maybe it was weird that he found 'grumpy and put-upon' to be an infinitely more attractive look than 'broody and dangerous,' but he wasn't about to start kink-shaming himself this far into the game.  "Yeah, I noticed.  My whole face noticed, in fact.  Right around the time you introduced it to my steering wheel."  
  
Derek's face twisted into a frown at that memory.  He had been very angry back then.  His sister had just died, violently and brutally.  He'd been packless, grieving, alone and wanted for murder.  Stiles and Derek hadn't been friends and they certainly hadn't been dating.  
  
Nostrils flaring as he took in a deep breath, Derek's face fell even more.  So much for Stiles not smelling afraid.  
  
Stiles sighed and rubbed at his forehead.  "Fuck, I'm sorry, I don't know why I just brought that up.  That was a long time ago..."  Jesus, this was humiliating.  He changed tactics.  "I've been having trouble sleeping.  It's been fucking me up and I..."  He gestured vaguely, unable to say the rest of it.  _I've been fighting off panic attacks all week and feel really out of control right now._  
  
Derek's mouth thinned out into a straight line.  Then he took two quick steps forward and dropped suddenly to his knees.  
  
"Holy shit!"  Stiles fell back against the door in surprise, his hands automatically going to Derek's hair as Derek leaned forward and pressed his nose into the crease of Stiles' thigh.  
  
"Is this okay?"  Derek's voice was muffled, plaintive, his breath hot through the fabric of Stiles' chinos.  His hands gripped Stiles' thighs, running up and down his legs.  "I missed you."  He breathed in deeply and Stiles just about melted.  Stiles had never gone from freaked-out to turned-on so fast in his life.    
  
"Tell me if this is okay."  Derek insisted, massaging Stiles' sore knees and pressing his face into Stiles’ crotch.  "I don't want to make you nervous.  I just really missed you."  
  
"Ah..."  Stiles found himself tilting his hips forward.  His mouth was dry and it took him a few tries to clear his throat.  "Ah... this is fine.  This is... uhh... if you keep doing that, though, there might be some... umm... reactions..."  
  
Derek lifted his head to peer up at Stiles.  His eyes were bright green and his hair mussed from Stiles' hands, still buried in it.  Stiles felt dizzy just looking at him.  Derek's eyes flicked down to Stiles' rapidly growing erection, then back up.  
  
Stiles was surprised he had enough blood left in his face to flush, but somehow he did.  "Um...  You don't have to do anything with it.  It's just... um... you're kind of..."  
  
"You were uncomfortable a minute ago."  
  
"You weren't on your knees nuzzling my dick a minute ago."  
  
Derek responded by pressing his face right up against the side of Stiles' erection and breathing in.  
  
"Oh my God, you're smelling my dick."  
  
"You smell good like this, aroused."  Derek pulled back again, blinking rapidly and loosening his grip on Stiles' hips.  "Sorry, I should have asked.  You just smelled nervous and I thought not looming would help."  
  
"It did.  It so did.  And feel free to get as up close and personal with my 'arousal' as you want.  Intimate, even.  I am onboard.  You have a green light for any amount of this."  
  
"Yeah?"  Derek looked down again, his eyes slightly glazed and heavy-lidded as he stroked up Stiles' erection with this thumb and forefinger, flicking his gaze briefly back to Stiles' face, as if checking that it was okay, then closing his mouth over the tip and breathed in.  Stiles felt the wet heat of Derek's tongue pressing against him through the fabric of his slacks and whimpered, leaking precum into this underwear.  
  
He ran his hands down the back of Derek's neck and across the stubble of his jaw, feeling the way it opened around him.  "You can... I mean.  Do you... do you want to...?"  
  
Derek nodded.  
  
Stiles' hands shook as he unbuckled his belt.  "I have condoms."  
  
"I can't catch anything from you."  Derek said as he helped ease Stiles' pants down over his hips.  Then he looked up into Stiles' face again, waiting for confirmation.  
  
"Okay."  
  
It was not at all like Stiles had envisioned their first time to be, which was saying something since Stiles had envisioned their first time quite a lot.  He had always imagined there to be more 'vying for dominance' involved.  Or, probably even more likely, a lot more of Derek having the upper hand and Stiles having to be willey and sweet-talk his way into occasionally getting to be in the driver's seat.  
  
He did not expect the phrase, "I haven't been sleeping," to automatically translate into Derek dropping to his knees and worshiping at the altar of his cock, but that was how it had gone.  
  
Stiles had melted his brain coming down Derek's throat and then jerked Derek off while they made out until they collapsed together on the floor, breathing heavily and with their pants tangled around their ankles.  Stiles was pretty sure the hand-job he had given had been mediocre at best, but Derek hadn't complained and Stiles was fairly certain he'd be allowed to try again at some point, so he wasn't too worried.  It'd been pretty fucking spectacular on his end, anyways.  
  
He palmed at Derek's chest idly, feeling his nipples harden through the fabric of his shirt.  Derek had a bigger bust size than some of the women Stiles had been with.  It was very different though.  He could feel the firmness of the muscle, even when Derek wasn't flexing.  His nipples were smaller too, definitely a man's.  
  
"You really are hotter than the surface of the sun."  Stiles had just had sex with Derek Hale and had been kind of brilliant.  
  
Derek grunted noncommittally in response, half falling into Stiles' lap, tracing patterns on Stiles' bare inner thigh and running a hand through Stiles' overly long hair.  
  
Stiles' face itched and he scratched at his beard.  He really needed to do something about his depression beard.  His depression beard and his depression haircut and his depression exhaustion and moodiness and the whole freak-out from earlier.  
  
He pulled his head away from Derek's hand.  "I should probably shower.  I can't believe you blew me after I've been sitting in a car all day."  
  
"I liked it."  Derek shrugged lazily.  
  
Stiles scratched at his beard again.  "I need to shave."  
  
Derek spread out his hand on Stiles' thigh, as if to hold him there.  "Stiles."  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"It's okay if you need to not be vulnerable sometimes."  
  
Stiles shifted his weight, uncomfortably.  "I don't know what you mean."  
  
Derek relaxed further into Stiles, almost stretching out onto the floor.  "When I feel weak, I get angry.  Or when I'm confused.  Sometimes I'll be angry for days and I won't even know why.  I'm working on recognizing it when it's happening."  He traced a slow spiral into the skin of Stiles' thigh.  "I hate feeling helpless, or like I don't understand.  I hate it to a point that's self-destructive."  
  
Stiles leaning back to bang his head lightly against the wall.  There was no point in pretending he didn't know what Derek was getting at.  "SERE training was harder than I expected."  
  
Derek nodded, unsurprised.  
  
"You don't have to handle me with kiddy gloves or anything, though.  I'm just having a bad week, I'll snap out of it."  
  
Derek rolled his eyes, flicking Stiles lightly on the side of the head and then sitting up to kiss him.  "I'm not sure that's how it works.  I've been trying to 'snap out of it' since before we met."  
  
"Well aren't you just a barrel of positivity.  So, what, this is just my life now?  Chronic depression and hypervigilance waiting to decent at any moment like a giant fucking raincloud."  
  
Derek shrugged.  "Nothing wrong with a little rain."  
  
"Not if you're lying face down in a mud puddle."  
  
"Stiles, just nod if you get what I'm trying to tell you."  
  
Stiles nodded, dropping against Derek's shoulder and closing his eyes.  He let himself drift there for a few moments, then shook himself, sitting up.  "Okay, but, I really do need a shower and a shave.  I'm having dinner with my dad in a couple hours and I should probably not smell like sex and the three-day-old KFC."  
  
Derek chuckled, letting Stiles up.  "Alright.  But, you don't have to go into work until Monday, right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Then how about you maybe... hold off on shaving for a bit."  
  
Stiles paused outside the bathroom, blinking in surprise, the door held open in front of him.  "Really?"  
  
Derek blushed.  Fucking _blushed_ , then looked up at Stiles again.  "Really."  
  
Stiles let a wicked smile steal over his face.  "Your request has been duly noted."  
  
He went into the bathroom and was just about to close the door behind him when something else came to mind.  He squinted at himself in the mirror, frowning, then poked his head back out the door.  "Derek?"  
  
"Hmm?"  Derek had gotten up off the floor and was busy fixing his clothes.  
  
"You wanna come have dinner with me and my dad?"  
  
"’Come to dinner,’ as in...?"  
  
"As in," Stiles grumbled at having to spell it out, "do you want have dinner with us so I can re-introduce you to my dad since you are now my boyfriend and ‘meet the parents’ is apparently not just a bad comedy but a real thing people do?"  
  
"Are you going to warn him I'm coming, or should I find a defibrillator to bring with us?  Because I'm pretty sure he has no idea we're dating."  
  
"I'll send him a warning text."  
  
"Maybe make it a warning phone call."  
  
"Ugh, you are such an old man sometimes.  Fine.  A warning phone call.  So?  Yes or no: you wanna come or not."  
  
Derek broke out into a wide, toothy smile.  The kind that was stupidly adorable and made Stiles kind-of-almost want to believe in unicorns and rainbows and non-homicidal fairies and all sorts of other impossible things, like puppies that never peed on the carpet and kittens that never clawed up the furniture.  "Yes, Stiles.  I will be your official boyfriend and officially meet your dad."  
  
"Good."  
  
Derek kept smiling and it was starting to look a little smug.  
  
Stiles narrowed his eyes.  "Just know that I still think you're a total dweeb and I hate you."  
  
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind."


End file.
